


It's a Bitter Pill to Swallow

by yours_truly



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Speculation, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_truly/pseuds/yours_truly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>(3x09 spec fic based on Marc Guggenheim's tweet about Felicity knowing where Oliver is while he's away.)</b><br/>“What are you doing here? What happened to coordinating logistics with Captain Lance?”</p>
<p>A necessary lie to keep him in the dark as long as possible, but now was the time to lay all her cards on the table and hope she came out of it with a winning hand.</p>
<p>“I know about the deal with Ra's,” she said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Bitter Pill to Swallow

Felicity sat in her chair at her workstation, twirling, waiting. Her stomach was in knots, and no amount of fidgeting could diminish the nervous energy threatening to overtake her at every moment.

 

When she finally heard the door unlock and his steps beginning to come down the stairs, she got up and stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She hoped that it looked tough and determined, but really she just felt like she was trying to hold herself together.

 

As Oliver caught sight of her, his pace on the steps slowed and a shadow of anger fell over his face. When he spoke, his voice was even harsher than she'd expected it to be.

 

“What are you doing here? What happened to coordinating logistics with Captain Lance?”

 

A necessary lie to keep him in the dark as long as possible, but now was the time to lay all her cards on the table and hope she came out of it with a winning hand.

 

“I know about the deal with Ra's,” she said. “And since you're a stubborn jackass with a martyr complex, I came to tell you that you're making the wrong decision.”

 

Oliver froze at the bottom of the stairs. His right hand continued to clutch the railing, and his mouth actually hung open for a moment in disbelief before he managed to speak.

 

“How could you possibly know about the deal?” he asked quietly.

 

“Two nights ago I intercepted some communications between one of Ra's al Ghul's lieutenants and their headquarters in Nanda Parbat that alluded to it. They were making... travel arrangements. After that, I hacked your phone and kept an eye on your tracker so that I would know when they made contact.” She took a step forward and put as much conviction and strength into her voice as she could manage. “Oliver, they're playing you.”

 

But he didn't seem to have heard anything past her first sentence. “Ra's only approached me three hours ago. You've known about the deal for two days and you didn't say anything? How could you--"

 

“You would have given in," she interrupted. "You would have immediately gone to Ra's and offered yourself over, and I was hoping that we would solve things before it got to that point.”

 

“That wasn't your call to make!” he shouted.

 

“I make calls all the time, Oliver!" Her arms gestured wildly toward her computer monitors, and she had to struggle to calm her voice, because this was a point that he absolutely needed to understand. "Any intel we get that doesn't come from direct recon, I control. When you guys are in the field, I make split-second decisions about where to send you and what you need to know, and you trust me to do that. I won't apologize for this.”

 

He looked at her as though he didn't recognize her. “People have been getting hurt, Felicity.”

 

“And more people will be hurt if you leave. Maybe the League would back off—for now—but you can't run away again. The city can't lose you.”

 

Oliver moved to stand over the med table. He braced his hands on its surface, bowed his head, and took a deep, controlled breath. When he looked up, the anger was gone from his face, replaced by something haunted and vulnerable. “The city can't lose me... or _you_ can't lose me, Felicity?”

 

She gasped, then clenched her jaw and refused to answer, but her eyes betrayed her as tears finally began forming.

 

“This,” Oliver said as he knocked gently on the table in front of him for emphasis, “this is why you and I are dangerous. It compromises our decisions.”

 

“There is no you and I," she snapped. "And your choice to keep us apart has obviously done a real good job of keeping us objective."

 

Oliver deigned to look away at that, but he nodded to himself as he began to walk around the table, coming closer to her. “I know. I... I'm doing this, Felicity. I came to get some of my gear, and then I'm leaving with the League in about an hour.” He stopped about an arm's length in front of her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. She looked at him square in the eye, and she could see the self-loathing that roiled inside of him. “There's no other way to stop this.”

 

Felicity would have laughed if she didn't think she might be about to die from all the anger and grief and love she felt toward him at that moment. “You told me I wouldn't lose you,” she accused, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

Tentatively, his arms came up and folded around her. She hesitated for a moment and then gripped his back with shaking hands. “I love you,” he breathed, his lips just barely brushing her ear. “I'm sorry.”

 

“You're so stupid. You're so, so stupid.” She repeated it over and over into his chest. They clung to one another for long minutes, both of them breathing raggedly, and then by a seemingly mutual decision they began to pull apart.

 

Felicity sniffed and wiped the back of her hand under her eyes before once again settling with her arms crossed in front of her. Oliver began to pack up the few belongings he needed to take, and she knew she couldn't stop him. She couldn't stop him, and so all that was left was to make sure he understood the true cost of his decision. She almost gagged on the words, their honesty wrenching her heart and making her feel like she'd never have another secret again once she gave them voice.

 

“Oliver, even after everything... I honestly don't think there's anything you're capable of that could make me stop loving you. But if you do this, there's also nothing you're capable of that will let me forgive you.”

 

He froze where he was bent over his duffle, and she could see that he even stopped breathing for a moment. When he stood and slung the bag over his shoulder, she read nothing but grim determination and acceptance in his stance. “I can live with that," he said. "To end this, to protect you and Thea and the others... I can live with that.”

 

“You'd better.” Her voice trembled, and even she wasn't sure whether it was fury or desperation. “Oliver Queen, you'd better.”

 

His eyes slammed shut and his body rocked as if he was preparing to once again take a step toward her, but instead he turned on his heel and before she knew it he had rushed up the stairs and the only sound in the lair was the slamming of the door. Felicity buried her face in her hands and took one, two, three deep breaths as she tried not to come apart at the seams.

 

The buzzing of her phone forced her to move, and John's face greeted her on the screen. As soon as she picked up, he was letting her know that there was League movement down by the docks and that she should get Roy and Oliver over there as soon as possible.

 

“It doesn't matter any more,” she whispered.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“He left, John... Oliver's gone.”


End file.
